


By the Book

by My_Soul_and_Perfume



Series: Give Me Prompts! [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 05:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10564203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Soul_and_Perfume/pseuds/My_Soul_and_Perfume
Summary: Ten sets down her chalk and wipes down her fingers, already itching to check off several other things in her book.(+) Six feet tall(+) Artistic(+) Relaxed(?) Gay?She groans silently and stares at the word for long time. How is she going to work up the courage to ask him? Should she just flat out say it? Maybe she should start some small talk to warm him up. Yeah, that would be a better approach....





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This was a story requested by LukHem13 a while ago. As opposed to the other shorts so far, this is my first ManxWoman based prompt! Yay!
> 
> Critique comments are always welcome!  
> Enjoy!

**By the Book**

 

       Ten had everything planned out since the day she was born; the perfect school, the perfect job, the perfect car and house. Everything worked together to create benefits which she should eventually use to her advantage in the real world. As a straight A student with an impossibly high citizenship grade and long community service hours, Ten simply could not accept being alone the rest of her life. Her parents? Somewhere over the rainbow. Friends? Don't exist, at least not at the moment. Because right now, Ten is on the hunt. She _will_ succeed, even if she has to travel as far as Antarctica for Him. Just to obtain the one thing she doesn't have yet...the perfect guy.

       Not for show, absolutely not! But a genuine, loving, responsible man who wouldn't mind if she worked overtime or exercised for fun. The perfect man, in Ten's eyes, could accept all of those things (according to her book).

       Ah yes, the book! Well Ten can only say that everything she's ever wanted for herself is noted on those pages, front and back, and are separated into neat little chapters. For example, Chapter one states:

**"The perfect guy has kind eyes." **

       Kind eyes, which promise to keep Ten safe for all of eternity.

        In the art studio _Paynte_ she sits at her easel, chewing her lower lip. The boy sitting across her table has these eyes. They're blue, as bright as the pastel chalk in her sketches, and sparkle like apple cider. Ten bites her lip tenderly, admiring how attentive the man is toward his painting. He has black hair with white highlights, a non threatening physique, and his skin is tan.

       She sets down the chalk and wipes down her fingers, already itching to check off several other things in her book.

(+) Six feet tall  
(+) Artistic  
(+) Relaxed  
(?) Gay?

       Ten groans silently and stares at the work for quite a long time. How is she going to work up the courage to ask him? Should she just flat out say it? Maybe starting some small talk to warm him up would be a better approach....

       Ten gets herself so caught up in her head that she doesn't notice when two pieces of chalk clink to the floor and roll towards her target. She doesn't notice when he sets his paintbrush down and retrieves said chalk from the hard wood. Nor does she notice when the Man with Kind Eyes crouches next to her canvas and sets the chalk down. She doesn't notice any of these things until the man of her dreams (or book) says, "Excuse me miss? You dropped your chalk."

_The perfect guy is also polite, well noted Ten. So how should I ask?_

       The painter tries to get Ten's attention once more, a little concerned with how her body seems to be frozen in place. He taps her bare shoulder twice, flinching back when the little lady gasps in shock. He gives a nervous smile and repeats his sentence. "Hi. You dropped your chalk near my table."

      "I did? I'm so sorry, I didn't even notice, thank you." Ten starts to get up, "Near your table right? Excuse me, I'll just-"

       "Oh I got it. See?" The man points to Ten's canvas, biting back a laugh. She's actually pretty cute.

       "Oh. Duh. Um, thanks again."

       "Yeah." The man (what the Hell is his name?) unfolds his legs to rise to full height above Ten, flexing beautifully toned thigh muscles simultaneously. Ten gulps in admiration, biting her lip again.

       (+) Physical health, good condition

       "It's pretty empty in here today." Ten notes, just to start conversation. She tucks a lock of blonde behind her ear, a sad look in her eyes. The man settles for clearing his throat and nodding.

      "This place is loosing customers everyday. It's city life, you know? Nobody wants to just sit down and paint anymore."

       (+) Understanding

       "Well, except us." Ten smiles. The man gives an inner whoop of excitement. Call him cheesy, but he lives to see people happy everyday.

       "That's right. Us. 'Us' being Blake and..."

       "Ten."

       "Ten." Blake nods.

       The blonde bubbles with excitement; she's always the one starting conversation, it's never been the other way around before. Her social skills aren't exactly up to par, so usually her jumpy personality makes it awkward trying to flirt with the Starbucks boy or Target guy anyway.

       "So you like to paint, that's cool. I'm more of a sketch person, not a big fan of colors you know?" she blushes. Blake moves back to his easel and shifts his chair around to face Ten.

       "What?! Color is half the fun though."

       "For most people yeah, but to me it's too much hassle. Who wants to sit around all day and decide what color green the grass should be?" she smirks.

       "Well black and white is no better either. That's like, silent films all over again."

       "If I recall, silent films proved to be very successful back then."

       "Damn. So she's monotone _and_ worships the fifties." Blake whistles. Of course he's playing with her though. Everyone has their own intake of art.

       "Precisely." Ten confirms. She packs up her chalk in miniature tin cases, tossing them into her satchel along with her sketch book and stands to leave. If this guy is actually interested in her, he'll try to stop her or give her his number at most. Ten wants both, but there's no reason to be greedy.

       "Aw, don't leave. I didn't mean what I said, I swear I was just kidding." Blake starts toward the blonde, intent on apologizing for his rudeness. He thought that they were just playing.

       "Oh! What? No, no, it wasn't you. I promise. It's just late you know, and I kind of need to get ready for work tomorrow." Blake glances outside at the setting sun painting their city in a murky orange. He pulls out his phone to check the time, making Ten believe that he's about to ask for her number. Just as she opens her mouth to recite the ten digits, Blake frowns. "It is late huh? Seven o'clock."

      "On the dot."

       "Hm?"

       "Nothing, it's just something my mom used to say. But uh, maybe we'll see each other again this week. Tomorrow maybe?" _Wrap things up Ten! Remember, the perfect guy is also flexible._

       "Thursday. I can do that. What time?" Blake abandons Ten, prompting her to answer while he packs away his things as well.

       "I get off at five thirty like today and my building is actually down the street. Is six fine?" Ten shivers in pleasure as Blake sweeps by her, exiting the door. She closes it behind her and stays close to the edge to avoid getting ran over by San Diego traffic.

       "I might be a little late, but that's fine with me."

       (+) Flexible

       The two stare at each other for a while in silence, one of the two oblivious to the fact that they haven't answered yet.

       "Is that okay?" Blake furrows his brows.

       "Huh? Oh yeah, perfect. See you!" Ten takes off down the sidewalk awkwardly, trying to keep her skirt from billowing in the winds and flashing pedestrians. San Diego has enough people doing that already.

       Behind her, Blake just smirks, a crinkle working at his eyes in amusement. He heads in the opposite direction, excited to see Ten once more.

**Author's Note:**

> How did I do?


End file.
